


waiting

by entrechat



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, M/M, Melancholy tone, POV Second Person, POV: You are Sakusa Kiyoomi, some really profound stuff here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:42:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25291846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/entrechat/pseuds/entrechat
Summary: You used to always remind yourself that when the pressure and weight of waiting felt unbearable, remember that the best things often take time.You laugh into the emptiness surrounding you. The reality of it all hits you like a blunt object to the back of your head and your laugh is humorless through it all. Waiting for Miya Atsumu took everything in you.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 11
Kudos: 54





	waiting

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first every attempt at second person POV writing so I hope you enjoy it and it leaves you feeling in the moment and like I reached through the screen and placed you in the story. Comments and Kudos are always appreciated, happy reading!
> 
> Huge thanks to my Beta, Dylan! I literally would not be posting fics without him <3  
> Dyl-annotation: Sakusa baby.. U ARE

Dark city streets and police sirens breed discomfort and worry. They wash over you like a lullaby. You never thought you’d be living a life where sounds indicating possible disaster would bring you some semblance of peace. You wait for each new shrill of sound to fade in and out past your living room window.

_Waiting._

You feel like you’ve spent your whole life waiting. Waiting for something that will never come. Waiting for the right choices to present themselves. Waiting for someone to love you even with all your rough edges and particular habits. You hate waiting. It swallows you up and forces you to wonder whether the things you’re waiting for are worth it. If _you’re_ worth it.

The darkness fills you up and you have to turn on every light in the cramped apartment to stop shaking. It’s cold and you can’t help but realize that it’s not the building that feels like ice.

Without realizing it you’ve found yourself huddled in the kitchen, shaky hands cradling a mug of steaming tea. The heat floats up to your skin and turns your cheeks pink. When you lift the mug to your lips and take a measured sip you realize which mug you’ve used. You can already tell what he would say to you.

_“Didja miss me that much? Ya had to use my cup?”_

Even thinking about him spreads clarity across you. The ash filling your lungs gets washed aside with every meeting of lips to porcelain. You can still hear his footsteps entering your heart. The day you met him was _not_ the day you discovered what you were missing in life. In fact the day you met him could be classified as the worst day of your life.

The details have become muddy in your mind. If you close your eyes it’s possible to pick out the way he touched you so carelessly and the hair-raising volume to his voice. That was before he knew you; knew what mattered to you. You can’t remember a time where you wanted to be further away from a person. Looking back makes the bones holding your heart in place tighten. You were still waiting back then. You used to always remind yourself that when the pressure and weight of waiting felt unbearable, remember that the best things often take time.

You laugh into the emptiness surrounding you. The reality of it all hits you like a blunt object to the back of your head and your laugh is humorless through it all. Waiting for Miya Atsumu took everything in you.

You have to stop drinking the tea. You pour half the cup into the sink because it does nothing to warm you up. You rely on thinking of Atsumu for comfort. Years passed since then and waiting through them was worth every minute. He knows you now.

You float back into the living room to sit on the windowsill. You look out into the inky black sky only interrupted by lampposts dotting the space with yellow. Your hand absently reaches out to lift the leaves of the plant that sits beside you and you close in on yourself. Arms wrap around your waist and you slouch to make yourself smaller. Air struggles to enter your lungs and you wonder if the ash has returned. The silence is oppressive and you itch to have a voice riddled with Kansai-ben fight it away before you drop under the stress.

Waiting was always about whether love or death came first. You force yourself not to think about the day he whispered against your ear, nobody for miles. The way three simple words rearranged your life. The sound of it echoes in your brain and has been for every lonely day.

You want to belong only to him.

Falling in love is another waiting game. You hate the way every aspect of your life is controlled by waiting. He doesn’t know how quickly you fell, though. When he told you he loved you, you had already been aching for him for months. Yet you didn’t respond. He revealed his truth the moment he knew it and all you could do was wait longer. You kept him from doubting by giving him a placating kiss but you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything.

You’re still waiting.

Perhaps the universe will give you a sign to stop waiting. Maybe you’ll break out of the chains containing you. Until then you sit on your windowsill and watch the sun just barely peek over the horizon. You had made plans to go to sleep but you couldn’t follow through. You were too consumed with haywire thoughts and instead shut the door to your bedroom— the bedroom you share. You pull open the window — it’s a bit of a struggle — and let the air invade you. It’s not the freshness you desire but it’s a change. Now you can hear the sounds from outside. Anything to hide from the silence.

An ambulance streaks by on the street below you and you watch it go. The sirens are louder now. You shiver and it spurs you to tuck your hand into your sleeves. The cold isn’t from the air. You have to remind yourself every time. You’ve duped yourself into thinking if you treat it like a temperature issue you can hold it off. It still doesn’t work.

You see the red and blue blink and when it disappears around the corner you can still see the colors against your eyelids. Your phone rings and knocks you out of thinking about what catastrophe lies in the wake of the sirens.

The possibilities scare you.

You close the window and your fingers linger on the latch once you lock it. Something feels like it’s wrapping around your neck but the sound of your phone ringing pulls you away once more. You barely glance at the caller ID before answering and bringing the phone to your ear. The voice on the other end of the line fills up the emptiness you’ve been harboring. It drapes blazing embers across your skin but instead of burning they serve to destroy the cold you’ve been feeling. All because of a nickname that you found yourself needing to hear to feel whole again.

You breathe out and the pressure rises off your chest. You almost miss the lilt to his voice that hides something deeper. You’re moving before you can stop to think. Nothing else matters besides him. You need to feel him, see him, hear him in person.

He never told you he wasn’t okay with waiting for you. If you wanted to be honest with yourself you know he would wait for you until the ends of the Earth. Something clicks. He doesn’t deserve to wait the same way you’ve been waiting your whole life. It exhausts you beyond comparison. You want to let him hear the same three words that you’ve left sitting on your tongue. You can’t let death come first.

You’re tired of waiting. Instead: you run.

**Author's Note:**

> come hang out with my on twitter and talk about all things haikyuu and writing @matsucockwa


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